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Post by privateers on Apr 23, 2013 8:25:03 GMT -5
Alestorm hits the speakers and the crowd stands in expectation of the Privateers
The following match, scheduled for one fall, is for the GHW World Tag Team Titles and will be contested under handicap rules. Introducing first, the challengers, at a combined weight of 450lbs, John Blake & Bill Davidson, The Privateers!
As the ragged words of Christopher Bowes come in over the rush of the guitar, Bill Davidson and John Blake emerge, ready for battle. The crowd reaction is much more boisterous tonight; Millson & Simpson are not loved at the best of times and the former's recent perfidy has robbed the fans of a potential thriller tonight.
The Privateers are riding the crest of the wave here at Rise of the Fighty fighty persons, going into a handicap match with the titles on the line.
Perhaps so Colin, but it's a lose/lose situation for them when you look at it. If they win, they're stripped of the titles almost immediately, when GHW joins EVPW, and if they lose, well they've proven that their talk of teamwork isn't worth much.
And let's not forget, these two have alot on their minds as of late. Last time on TNT they lost their heads and lost the triangle tag match. Johnny Simpson's only ace in the hole is the dying hope that Davidson & Blake are still dividing their focus between the belts and the Logging Crew.
The stars of the sea enter the ring, Davidson sliding under the bottom strand and Blake bounding over the top.
TBCB-Simpson
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Post by Millson and Simpson on Apr 23, 2013 11:44:19 GMT -5
And their opponent, representing the GHW Tag Team champions, from Macon, Georgia, weighing in at 285lbs, Johnny Simpson.
Boos ring out for the Punisher as he bursts through the curtain, tag team gold draped around his chest. With no bravado or posturing, the Big Bacon from Macon merely paces down the entrance ramp, ignoring the front row fans who try to touch him as he walks by, ascending the steel ring steps and entering the squared circle through the middle rope. Once he stands in the ring, Simpson turns to face the camera and raises his arms to another chorus of hatred, before handing his title belt to the ringside attendant, the champion walking over to his corner and resting against it as Blake steps out of the ring. Leaving Davidson and Simpson to duke it out, the man in the zebra stripes signals for the final GHW Tag Team title match in history to commence.
TBC
(Good luck guys)
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Post by privateers on Apr 24, 2013 19:58:34 GMT -5
The bell rings and John and Bill swap strategy in their corner, while Simpson stands with only the jeers of the GHW faithful to back him up. At length, Davidson and Simpson meet in the center of the ring and it’s clear the Georgian is trying to get inside his opponent’s head with harsh words and taunting similes. The Scotsman seems unmoved and, having heard enough, jumps to the offensive with a hard slap across the face followed up by a knee lift that leaves the larger man dazed. Sensing the opportunity, a kick to the gut sets the man from Macon up for a bulldog. However, as Davidson drives his momentum forward, Simpson, with a mighty shove, sends the smaller man sailing into the ropes, where he hangs, twisted and stunned.
A quick start is ground to a halt. He got a bit cocky there, and tried too much too soon.
Positively, there’s too much of a weight differential for him to be trying moves like that this early on. He’s got to blitz with strikes, keep the speed up and wear this big man out.
Not much chance of that now…
Slightly miffed at his carelessness, the brawny champ snatches up his smaller foe and drops him across his knee in a stomach-splitting gutbuster. The Punisher then sits on his opponent’s back, then grabs hold of Davidson's wrists and crosses the sailor’s arms under his chin. Johnny then leans back, keeping the pressure on. The Scotsman’s face turns various shades of red and he emits a series of painful moans as the straight jack hold is prolonged. Still, his intestinal fortitude is such that he will not submit, despite the inquiries of the official and the loud encouragement of his adversary. In disgust, Simpson breaks the hold and delivers a few boots to the midsection to further soften Davidson’s torso for the coming onslaught.
This is trademark punishment by Johnny Simpson. This ground and pound strategy has worked before, what about tonight?
It certainly will Al, he’s dangerous even alone, and the Privateers are finding out just how much.
The odds makers didn’t give Simpson much of a chance, but it looks like they spoke too soon.
Anything is possible, and it’s only early, but the Seafaring Bastards have to get airborne. Another few minutes of this and Bill Davidson is going to be grounded; permanently.
Simpson stands his opponent up by pulling his hair. He then moves behind him and bends him forward, then takes one of his opponent's arms and pulls it back between the hapless victim’s legs. Davidson’s other arm is then hooked, signalling the immanent pumphandle slam. Johnny lifts his foe up over his shoulder, falling forward to slam Bill against the mat. Looking at the prone seaman, Simpson decides to drop a headbutt into Davidson’s exposed groin for good measure. He then picks up the injured Scot and, hoisting him high over his head, drops him on the top rope, neck first. As the buccaneer chokes and sputters, Johnny takes a breather and clamps on a reverse chinlock. Grinding is harm across the smaller man’s face, he begins deriding his foe. Drawing strength from these insults, Bill Davidson floods with righteous indignation, and fights to get his feet under him.
The crowd is coming to Davidson’s aid! Listen to this ovation for the challengers!
Yeah, but all these fans can’t get in there and help him.
No argument there, but I gotta say that when you’re in there against a popular guy it can be frustrating as Hell to tune out the crowd.
Despite the downward pressure applied by the Punisher, the roar of the fans urges Bill to his feet. Sensing the danger, and looking to regain some ground, Johnny rotates his grip into a standing side headlock. In spite of this, the Seaside Sensation will not be denied, and, with the crowd providing the rhythm, he musically squirms, sways and shimmies his way loose of the vice-like grip. As Simpson turns to attempt to recover control, he is met with a desperate spear than does little more than knock him off his feet, but seems to signal a turn in the tide. The man from the highlands scrambles to his feet and catches a charging Johnny with a hip toss, turns and has a stiff elbow ready when he rises, which sends the tag champion outside in order that he might review his change of fortune. Not to be denied the advantage, Davidson makes the tag and both men execute a front flip over the ropes to the outside, leaving all three men in a heap on the concrete and the crowd eager for more action.
The crowd is hot now; the young men from the UK sure know how to light their fire with moves just like that.
They’re taking big risks here; let’s see if they can pay big dividends. A flying attack like that hurts you every bit as much as it hurts your opposition. Besides, a couple hundred pounds of flying Privateers isn’t going to slow him up that long.
Simpson stumbles back inside, with Blake in hot pursuit. He climbs the Bacon from Macon as though he was a main mast, and plants a sleeper on him. The Punisher fights to retain consciousness, but the weight of his opponent on his back, and the general chaos of the last few moments, seem to have sapped all of his resistance. He slowly begins to wilt, as the Plymouth Pit-bull bears down, hoping to end the match up. Johnny drops to a knee and the crowd boisterously signals its approval. John Blake continues to bear down on the sleeper hold, but somehow the man from Georgia manages to get his legs back under him. The Englishman is perched on the big man’s back once again, but suddenly Simpson drops and crashes toward the canvas, pinning Blake between the mat and the man-mountain. The referee counts the slapdash pinning combination that results, but Simpson, still halfway to dream land, kicks himself out of a potential victory.
Johnny is still out to lunch.
Indeed, the sleeper is the kind of move that takes it out of you. It’ll take him a few minutes to clear the cobwebs. It’s a good job he had the presence of mind to fall back and break the hold. The Privateers are resourceful and they came within minutes of becoming tag team champions.
As both men get to their feet, John Blake strikes back with a series of knife-edge chops that send the Punisher to the buckle. An Irish whip sees him sail, sternum first, into the opposite corner. The Awesome son of Albion rushes to capitalize, but an ill-advised German suplex attempt is met with a winded mule kick. As John staggers back, Simpson lifts him onto his shoulders and then, falling backwards, drives him back-first into the mat.
Oooo! He’ll be feeling that for days!
The Plymouth Pitbull had to avoid this type of thing.
The flapjack leaves Blake rolling his pain and, with a nod to the partisan crowd, Johnny grasps both of his opponent's wrists, while placing his foot on the sailor's upper back, and pulling back on the arms. While held in the rudimentary surfboard, Blake is roundly mocked by his opponent.
John Blake is hearing all sorts of things he doesn’t like, you can bet on that.
You can say that again, he’s in for a long night at this rate.
Simpson turns his captive loose and gives him a forceful kick toward the corner. Blake, with laboured motion and pained expression, attempts to make the tag, and finds Davidson willing and able. The Scotsman mounts the top turnbuckle and soars through the air. The flash bulbs light up the arena, catching his graceful flight, until its harsh impact with the well-formed pectorals of the champion. The missile dropkick floors the Georgia native. As Johnny clears the cobwebs and regains his footing, the cheers are mounting as the Obscene Aberdeen Teen stands poised in the corner. The moment he turns to face him, Bill bursts forth, charging towards his larger adversary and drives his shoulder into Johnny's midsection, forcing him back-first into the mat. Nimbly, he holds onto a waistlock and bridges into a pinning combination.
A close two count there. There wasn’t much on that kick out Al, Big Johnny could be in trouble.
Well, I will say this, these young guys will fight you.
Playing the numbers game is what works here. If they want the gold, the Privateers are going to have to wrestle smarter than they have been. Quick tags are what’s going to do it.
The two grapplers get to their feet and Bill engineers a lock up then brings his arm up inside to hit Simpson under the chin; a skilful European uppercut. He then plants a stiff kick to the midriff and hits a stunner, which sets the crowd on edge. Another pinfall comes up dry, and Davidson makes the tag. The Privateers apply a front face lock to their opponent, draping the champ’s near arm over their respective shoulders. With a nod to another, Simpson is lifted and held upside-down before the team falls backwards in a textbook vertical suplex. As Davidson steps out, Blake makes his way behind the rising enforcer and puts both of his hands on both of Simpson’s shoulders while jumping up to place both his knees against the opponent's back. The crowd roars in approval as both Fighty fighty persons then fall backward to the ground, forcing the Englishmen's knees to push up into the back of his opponent. Big Johnny flops about like a fish out of water, holding his back and kidney area, while John Blake basks in the adulation of the adoring throng and makes another quick tag.
A lung blower by the Sea-faring Bastard! When you’re right, you’re right Matt, this team is starting to ramp up.
Positively Colin, there’s not alotta guys who can stack up with Johnny in the toughness category, but these two guys seem something of a match, as long as they work together.
With a handful of hair, Bill Davidson drags Simpson to his feet. He's been playing possum though and fires off a quick right hand, but receives one in kind for his trouble. He tries a left, but this blocked and in its place a knife-edge chop smashes into chest, a second, third, and fourth put him on the back foot and suddenly the tartan-clad tough guy’s legs are scissored around Johnny's head, dragging him into a forced somersault as he falls to the mat.
TBCB-Simpson
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